The Pastor’s Piece – Pastor Kevin Cernek, FCFI Chaplain

FCFI
August 2, 2026

What’s so great about gardening? Why do some people do it and why do some not care?

As I peered across our garden a few days ago, those questions came across my mind. I have to admit, my wife is more into the garden than I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it. She is very diligent every year to plan out a design of exactly what she wants to plant and where. It always includes a variety of vegetables and flowers. This year in celebration of our country’s 250th year of independence, she planted flowers in giant red, white, and blue letters across one end of the garden that read: USA. They are in full bloom now and remind us daily to thank the Lord for the freedoms we enjoy and the blessing that it is to live in America. God is good!

Our garden is entirely weed free thanks to her. Every day she examines the soil closely and whenever she deems it necessary, she gets out her little tiller and the soil is churned and the weeds are gone. Several years ago, maybe two decades to be exact, for one of our holiday celebrations I bought her a mini-rototiller. One that she can get out whenever she wants. It’s light enough that she can actually carry it to the garden. But eventually that little tiller wore out. It got to the place where it leaked oil profusely and smoked uncontrollably and finally sputtered itself out. Knowing how much she adored that little tiller, I babied it along as long as I could until eventually it completely gave up the ghost and I had to get her a new one. She didn’t care for the new one nearly as much as she did the old one, but eventually she got used to it. I try to keep it fueled and tuned up so that whenever she has the whim to till, it’s ready. The garden shows it too. Woe to any weed that raises its ugly head in our garden.

Back in the day, people had gardens out of necessity. All those vegetables  were either canned or frozen in order to feed the family through the long winter ahead. But nowadays, one can stop at the grocery store and almost eat cheaper than if he was growing it all himself – and it’s a lot less work.

But gardening has a certain romanticism to it. People in the city dream of moving to the country and having a big garden to care for and reap many joyful benefits from. But for those of us who have spent most of our lives living in the country, gardening is more a fact of life than anything else.

When I was a kid, my brothers and I spent hour after dusty hour in the garden hoeing weeds and picking vegetables. It was a rite of passage to growing up. When we got bored with the picking and hoeing, we’d find ways to entertain ourselves. On several occasions a dirt clod fight would break out amongst us. We’d take up sides, hide behind objects like a fence post or nearby tree, and lob dirt clods across enemy lines in hopes of hitting someone. This always started out as good clean (or should I say dirty) fun, until somebody took a rock-hard clod off the side of the face or top of the head. Crying and running to the house always ensued and someone (usually one of the older brothers) had to suffer the wrath of Mom. I tell you, those were the days.

After picking a few five gallon buckets of green beans we’d sit in the shade on the front lawn and snap them for hours while the hay dried in the field. The whole time mom had the pressure cooker going in the kitchen putting up quart after quart for winter supply. When we were done snapping, it was time to make hay.

Dad was big into gardening. He would get out there as early as he could in the spring and get his potatoes and peas planted. His favorite day of the year was the day he had fresh garden peas and new potatoes for dinner. Mom would cook them up together in her big cast iron pot on the stove with a white sauce and we’d all indulge and enjoy the early fruit of our labor. It wasn’t until after dad passed away that I realized how much he enjoyed gardening. Early in the morning as the sun came up over the eastern horizon, all summer long we would find dad weeding and harvesting his garden in the cool of the day.

He must have gotten the gardening gene from my Grandpa. Grandpa always had a big garden, and after he ate all that he wanted and Grandma canned what they needed, he gave the rest away. He received great joy by sharing his goods with others. I can still see him in his green work shirt and pants, bending over in the garden either weeding or picking vegetables.

Every spring my wife and I till, hoe, dig, and plant a garden surrounded by beautiful flowers. One year, we had radishes on the table already on May 3^rd. Another year we had a bumper watermelon crop. The largest one weighed in at 23 pounds and was as big on delicious as it was in size. My wife cans everything, including tomatoes, beets, okra, beans, carrots, corn, and whatever else we have growing out there. We also have a nice selection of pumpkins for the grandbabies.

“I will hear what the Lord will say … indeed, the Lord will give what is good, and our land will yield its produce,” (Psalm 85: 8, 12).

(Kevin Cernek is Pastor of Martintown Community Church in Martintown, Wisconsin.)